


i'm afraid that's just the way the world works

by johnllauren



Series: hetalia rarepair week 2020 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Feelings Jams, Getting Together, Historical Hetalia, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Kissing, M/M, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24748831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: “Are you doing this willingly?” Prussia asks, kicking at the corner of the rug with his foot.“Areyou?”“Fair point.”Prussia’s still scowling, of course: he’s been scowling ever since this alliance was announced, at least as far as England could tell.The year is 1756, and longstanding alliances have been reversed following the War of the Austrian Succession, leaving Prussia the ally of England and Austria the ally of France. Which would have been fine if Prussia could do anything without complaining, or if either of them could come to terms with being playthings of their governments and growing old in an unforgiving world.
Relationships: England/Prussia (Hetalia)
Series: hetalia rarepair week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786603
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	i'm afraid that's just the way the world works

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote my thesis on the diplomatic revolution and my hetalia brain wouldn't let me rest until I wrote two fics about how I think the characters would handle being playthings of politics and having their alliances shifted. ok so the diplomatic rev wasn't that big of a deal but I just think it's neat. anyway tune in on Thursday for the fruaus counterpart to this!
> 
> for rarepair week day 3!  
> prompt: stars  
> title from "the story" by conan gray

“Are you doing this willingly?” Prussia asks, kicking at the corner of the rug with his foot.

“Are _you_?”

“Fair point.” 

Prussia’s still scowling, of course: he’s been scowling ever since this alliance was announced, at least as far as England could tell. He liked being an ally of Francis, liked France, that much was evident. The thought of France at all makes England almost blind with rage, but he misses his alliance with Austria the same way Prussia must miss France. Their new circumstance, after years of indirectly fighting against each other, is unwelcome at best. 

England makes a face. “I never thought I’d ally with someone so…” 

“What, undignified?” Prussia counters, making a face as England looks him up and down with disdain. “Just ‘cause I’m loud?” 

England doesn’t respond. 

“Last time I checked, all you’ve got are colonies overrun with a military presence you can’t afford and an ego bigger than your empire.” 

“Look, make peace with being a plaything of your government on your own time.” England says. If he takes any offense at the dig about his colonies, he doesn’t show it. 

Prussia sighs. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t ask to be in this position either.” England says, and Prussia isn’t sure if it’s an olive branch or an insult. “Did any of us?”

The thought of the other two makes Prussia laugh coldly. “And how do you think dear Francis is handling the princess?”

“You know, Austria isn’t terrible to be allied with.” England says in defense of his old ally, though he’s under no obligation to do so (not even a moral one, really, after they had all watched him get roundhouse kicked into the next century in Silesia). 

“Really?”

He considers. “No.” England admits, and that makes Prussia laugh, _really_ laugh, throwing his head back and guffawing. 

“So you’ve finally agreed to shittalk the princess with me, then?” Prussia asks. His features are lit up by it, like the act of gossipping breathes life into him, and England is once again reminded why he’s such good friends with France and Spain. 

England wrinkles his nose. “I never said I’d gossip about him.” As if he owes anything to Austria after all this. 

Prussia scoffs. “Has he fooled you into thinking he’s dignified?”

“There’s nothing _dignified_ about a country losing his empire,” England responds, aware of the slight hypocrisy of it (aware of Jenkins’ Ear being a draw, of returning Louisbourg to France in the end, of how even his ally couldn’t keep territory). 

Prussia’s lips curl into a smile. “I like the way you think,” he says, and of course the way to earn Prussia’s affection is through talking about the military. 

“Perhaps we’re more alike than we think.” 

Both of them had learned very early on that the only way to get anything was through war, through conquering. England doesn’t know much about Prussia’s personal life, though he does know Prussia was born for fighting, for war. He wonders what Prussia’s heard about him. 

When England looks back at Prussia, he’s craning his neck to look around the room. “Don’t you just want to get _out_ of here?” Prussia asks. “Go into the woods? Conquer something?”

“Haven’t we had enough conquering for the next year or so?” England asks. Perhaps he’s getting old, or perhaps he’s tired of fighting wars and getting nothing out of them. 

Prussia grins, a wicked smile that flashes his teeth as if they’re fangs. “No,” he says, and England remembers the smile Prussia couldn’t quite shake in ‘48, as Austria finally agreed to cede Silesia for good. 

But England does sympathize with Prussia, to an extent. There are times he, too, wants to be outside, remembers what it feels like to spend his days in wide open fields, talking to fairies or Francis or, fuck, Saxony. So he nods, stands and fixes his clothes, and extends a hand to Prussia. “We could walk around the grounds.”

“How romantic,” Prussia says, though his voice isn’t dripping with irony the way England thought it would be. 

It’s a clear night, for once, and when they look up they can see the stars above them. England finds himself staring up at them to avoid Prussia’s piercing gaze, and when he looks back at the other, Prussia looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how. “Are you alright?” England asks, before he can stop himself. 

Prussia nods, but his eyes look distant. 

“Do you think they’re fucking?” He asks, suddenly, like even he is startled by the admission of his thoughts.

“What,” England asks, more out of confusion than need for clarification. 

“Do you think Roderich and Francis are fucking?”

“Yeah, I figured that’s what you meant.” England says. “I don’t know that it matters, I don’t think it concerns us much.”

Prussia’s face twists into something that isn’t quite anger - regret or jealousy, perhaps? “They get to, what - dance around in that fucking mansion of his, the one near Paris? Roderich playing the piano and Francis leaning over it, giving him those bedroom eyes, saying something about how those pretty fingers would look around his neck?” Prussia’s hands curl into fists at his side, and something in England wants to reach forward and stop them, calm him down. “We don’t - we don’t get that, Arthur, we never have. Tell me a time when you’ve felt _happy_ that wasn’t because of a war.” 

England falters. “I can’t.” 

“Exactly.” 

It’s true - there’s nothing quite like the feeling of victory, of gaining territory, even if it  
had some consequences. Every decade that passes by seems to bring with it a new scar or two, and if England had grown to hate them at least he could pretend they were something honorable, something to be proud of. 

“I’m tired.” Prussia says, and he sounds more vulnerable than England has ever heard him. 

England meets his eyes, and _’tired’_ is the right word to describe them. “We have been alive for so long, Arthur,” he is exhausted. They are both exhausted. “Is this it? War after war and meaningless treaties and alliances that change based on nothing?” 

“I don’t know,” England says, barely a whisper. 

The world has changed so much since they were younger. England wonders if it was easier, simpler then, the way he remembers, or if it was always this complicated (if Saxony felt as tired as he does now). He supposes he’ll never know. 

They lapse into silence while they wrestle with their own thoughts. Prussia is looking up at the stars, so England fixes his gaze on the ground to allow him to have the moment alone. The sound of their footsteps hitting the grass is the only thing left that reminds them they are human, they are human, they are human. 

“There’s going to be another one.” Of course England breaks the silence. “I can feel it.” 

Prussia exhales. “So can I.” 

They would never be free from this, from the incessant wars, would they? 

“I want to forget. To feel human.” Prussia says. He sounds too vulnerable, too afraid, too exhausted. 

“Me too.” England agrees. “Would you like to be human for tonight?” 

Prussia nods. “ _Yes,_ ” and there is desperation in his voice. 

England stops walking, turns to face him. He holds his hands out in silent question, waiting for Prussia to nod, and then places them on Prussia’s hips. Prussia must get the hint, because he reaches forward to rest his hands on England’s shoulders. And then they are swaying to the sounds of the darkness and their own breathing, their own muffled laughter about how childish this is. Neither of them have been one for dancing, and whatever rhythm they might’ve had is quickly lost, but they manage. 

The clearing is lit only by the moon and the stars, but it’s enough light for England to see Prussia’s face. He’s smiling softly and it actually reaches his eyes, and England realizes this might be the first time he’s seen Prussia truly smile. England is smiling back. 

“Can I?” Prussia asks, leaning in, eyeing England's lips. 

It is England’s turn to say “ _yes,_ ” an enthusiastic whisper loud enough for only Prussia to hear. 

And then they are kissing. It’s soft, gentle, the kiss of two people who are tired and aching for something they can’t quite identify. But the kiss, the way Prussia’s lips brush against England’s and how he smiles into it, the feeling of the cool night air against their skin, it is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> i personally love the idea of relationships in europe being pretty ambiguous around this time. the way alliances and technology are changing a lot, and bc I can't see the imperialist powers being lovey-dovey while they're also trying to take over the world. also bc ambiguity and uncertainty are fun to write. 
> 
> find me on tumblr: lafayettesass !


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